2025 - Olympic Stands
2k5 - Friday, July 29, 2005, 10:17 PM ------------------------------------- Monacan Olympics, 2025 The stands Contents: Symphony Elita One Symphony is sitting a few rows up in the stands, still a few rows below Elita drinking a beverage of no nutritional value, and trading barbs with the Autofemme. She's also busy reveling in her Gold medal conquest, even if it was a cheapened victory by that idiot human running out of power for his toy. Arachnae picks her way into the stands with the general expression of one somewhat disgusted and not at all pleased to be on this heathenish planet. If anything, she looks, in a word, prickly. No beverages of nominal nutritional value, no banners, emblems, flags or giant foamy hands. Just a general air of malevolent unease. Symphony's good humor is dampened a little at the obvious prickliness of Arachnae, hrrm. She waves a hand trying to get her attention, "You appear perturbed, my friend..." about the only person she's use THAT term with, "Care to take your mind off it for a bit? I suspect it has something to do with NOT being in a lab right now..." Below, From Combat Pit 4, Broadcast is shown the doors. "Hey! Hey! Do I get my $200 for passing go?" Yeah, Broadcast gets out of the fight now. Arachnae glances over, optics narrowing a moment before she flicks wings behind her, picking her way towards Symphony. "That is part, yes." She waves a hand vaguely about, "There were some temporal complications which concluded in my arrival at this planet without the benefit of the foreknowledge of the events currently occurring. Which in turn led to the ability of my esteemed wingsib in acquiring my assistance with an event without granting me additional understanding of the proceedings prior to the initial volley of armaments. In turn, the event itself was a singular disappointment and a refreshing reminder of the discrepancies and divisions inherent in the system which allocates for independant thought without intellect being a prior requirement." She drops into a seat, wings flicking irritably as she slumps.. "I hate it here." Below, Ranger keeps relaxing, swigging away at ener-drinks while he watches the event. All non-Decepticons are out by now, so he's unsure as to whom to root for. Symphony's optics swirl through colors as Arachnae spouts off... "Er... I'm assuming... um." she reaches back through what Arachnae said, "Alright, I'm guessing the most important bit out of all of that was 'I hate this place'... because I can't even begin to grasp the rest of it." she smiles a bit, "Well, for my part, I'm pleased to be departing this wretched place with a gold medal. Seems to make it worth while on some small level. Conquest in a virtual battlefield lacks real purpose, but it's a keepsake." Elita watches you both for a moment with a quiet disdain. Even with her recent talk with Rodimus, the old femme has difficulty budging even an inch in her stance on things. She listens to you both banter about and gives another "hmph" of disapproval. "A medal for fake combat...how fitting." Arachnae peers over at Symphony, offers a thin smile and starts to pick at a knee with a talon after putting her feet up on the seats to the next row. "I came up here to get some things for the lab, didn't realize the olympics were going on and got sucked into something. Scourge made me do it." Hrmph, optics slitting, "I can't *believe* I didn't realize that this was going on and the reason I hadn't been interrupted in the lab for two weeks was everyone was off galaxy hopping." Emerald optics focus on Elita. "Listen here, pinky.. If I wanted to hear someone be snide, I'd go talk to Hook. At least he's intelligent." Arachnae's retort draws a sharp glare from Elia One and for a moment emerald optics are met with sapphire ones, "Something you care to say to me...*insect*?" Comes the cold reply as Elita actually stands up now. Looking at you both it seems the femme commander is waiting, perhaps looking for an excuse to open up. She regards you both with a haughty demeanor, "How dare you murderers sit there as if enjoying some sort of theatre.." Apparently SOMETHING crawled up and bit Elita in the "Angry Circuits" today or perhaps watching her friend be walloped on, even in a game has left her more than a bit revved up. Symphony slurps at her drink with that short surprised sort of motion, staring at Nae a little bit... oooo, she's prickly -and- a little snappish. This should be good entertainment, for the moment Symphony stays silent, rolling her head to glance at Elita out of the side of her optics to see what Elita has to say about that, looking more like a spectator then a participant. Arachnae's optics glint emerald behind her visor as she looks back to Symphony, readies to speak before snapping attention to Elita. If anything she settles more comfortably in her seat, wings curving between her and the armrests. "Are you talking to me, my dear?" Soft tone, polite, inquisitive. The tone remains rather gentle, "Hmm, how to reply, small words that you may or may not be able to understand, that means to be able to process, my dear." Like one would speak to a lackwit. "Let me begin by stating a simple fact, I am not of an insectiod design nor have I ever been. Basing that reply on your usage of the term insect as applied to the common parlance of terran terms that spatter our vocabulary after the handful of years we have allowed ourselves to be exposed to that particular pestilence. Now.." She leans forward, sliding her feet off of the seat in front of her to rest them on the ground, elbows on knees know, peering at Elita with a half smirk, "As for the application of the term murderer.. I do object on the simple basis that death in war is a natural state of events. It is to be expected. And onto the subject of theatre. You are here as well, spectating. Which in and of itself is a form of support. Why don't you sit your pretty self down in your seat and keep your vocoder in the off position unless you have some form of intelligent conversation to offer." Symphony smirks just a little bit before slurping again, listening to how Arachnae decides to bring out the claws. Oh it is SO rare to get such an enjoyable experience as this! She really must catch Nae in the biting mood more often! So long as -she's- not the target of course. She peers back up at Elita with an impish smirk on her face, wondering how the Autofemme will respond. Stepping down over the row of empty chairs between both femmes, Elita puts herself nose to nose with the Decepticon, her visage offering just the slightest hint of a smirk, "Did you stay up all night long studying the "Big Words" holo just so you might have a chance of using them? Hmm?" You could probably run a few particles between them at this point, but not much more. "I suppose the Decepticons need at least one trained monkey running around to attempt to lend them some small attempt of credibility in all of this." Symphony blinkblinks as her drink is almost spilled by the intruding Autobot, "Tsk tsk! Truuuuucee... I don't think Rodimus would like it if he saw this, he might ground you." she grins a little, "I don't think you want to be the one to start a war on Monacus. It'd be a hard thing to live down." Below, Ranger moves from his seat, intending on commiserating Firestar and Fusillade on their eliminations before placing in this event. He swigs from his drink as he walks, a cheerful grin on his face. Arachnae sits up slowly before she unfolds herself from her seat, standing to look Elita optic to optic. And a slow, crooked smile spreads across her face, optics glittering more gold than green. Wings half unfurl behind her, panels rasping against panels with soft, sanded sounds. "Awwwwww... Is the fearless underground guerrilla femme feeling outdated and useless? Is that why you're being all holier than thou as if your pretty, *pink* hands were stainless and you had no sins of which to speak in this endless war we all fight, Hmmmm?" Optics narrow to golden slits, "With the words spewing out of your mouth, one would begin to think you an embittered widow full of naught but ashes for this life and no hope for the future." She turns her head slightly to peer at Symphony, smirks a bit more then returns an unwavering gaze at Elita, "Or did someone drink to much and is now having one of those dreadful moments of vocoder regurgitation, where the valve between ones mind and mouth fails and nonsense spills out like coils of conduit from a gutted corpse?" Symphony starts edging away after Nae brings out the Optimus card. She considers whether she should try and cool things down, but seems indecisive, she -IS- having quite a lot of fun watching... it's a guilty pleasure you could say. Decisions decisions... the longer she debates, the less time she has! Elita stands toe to toe with the 'Con. She hasn't budged an inch in 4 million years, why start now? As Arachnae spews yet more dribble about this that and the other. Elita's heard it all before, from better 'Cons than this. She seems about to say something back and walk away, but then the implied reference to Optimus passes from the mouth of Arachnae and there is suddenly a very stark shift in Elita's posture, as she puts a finger right into the chest of the other bot, "Guard your words Decepticon...or no force on this planet will help you." Symphony shakes her head a little, "If you really wanna go that route, and violate the Truce, I suspect it will go very badly for you. I for one have no intention of intervening, because frankly... it'll be refreshing to see an Autobot drawn and quartered by the Monacan Authorities, not to mention the chance to thrash the bejeesus out of your unsuspecting compatriots for the violation. I'd consider carefully what you do next... words are just words, anything physical though will likely end your existence." Arachnae's gaze slowly tracks down to the finger poking at her chest. A brow ridge lifts, or an optic narrows to the same effect either way. And ever so slowly she tracks her gaze up the arm to once more stare Elita in the optics. Voice remains softly spoken, but the cold hue of crimson threading through the gold of her optics seems like the play of lightning dancing against a storm riddled sky in negative shades. "If you think that you are the only one to have lost one close to you, *Elita One*, then you are sorely mistaken." Velvet tones sliding to the whisper hiss of silk against steels edge, "Optimus isn't the end all be all of deaths that have happened. If you are unable to see past your own weakness and /personal/ loss for the betterment of your own kind, then perhaps you should climb into his tomb and molder away with his corpse. It'll be less of a strain on your /factions/ reserves." Wings give the tiniest of flicks, optics narrow as she continues, "Oh.. I'm sorry, there /isn't/ a corpse anymore. My apologies then and allow me to rephrase.. Go climb into his tomb and pretend that all is well in phantom arms because if you can't get over him, you're worthless as a sentient being." Ranger drifts further up into the stands, looking for nothing more than a better seat. He's unconcerned about missing the tail-end of the match, as he cares little as to which Constructicon wins. His optics flicker across the available seats, but fall on something rather more than simply an empty seat. Uh-oh. There perhaps was a moment when Elita could have walked away. Taken the high road. Espoused the ideals that Rodimus tried to impart on her the other night. But you mention a temperamental femme's dead love and well, that all just gets distilled down into a purely emotional response. As the word "Optimus.." is spoken, Elita spins on the Decepticon and as the insult is leveled, her hand is already in motion, a vicious slap aimed right at Arachnae's cheek. "Don't you *dare* speak his name!" She snarls. Arachnae's head is snapped to the side as she finds her cheek feeling the sudden impact of a palm-slap. Wings freeze, femme freezes and for a moment all is utterly silent. It could be simply explained as one of those random temporal anomalies where time seems to stretch out in a distended taffy-pull effect. It also could simply be that the blue hunter-medic is stunned by the sheer audacity of the pink one. Then, the moment bursts with the beginnings of a soft chuckle. She turns her head back, looking Elita full in the face, smile crooked and twisted upon thin lips, optics still dancing negative storms, "Care to slap the other cheek, my dear? Or are you satisfied with this breech of the truce?" Wings flick, span half out and there is the soft threat-promise of electricities crackle within the interior panels. "Optimus Optimus Optimus Optimus." Again with the chuckle, "A mechanism who had his head stuffed so far up his own exhaust systems that he allowed himself to be BLINDLY pulled into situation after situation, leaving his home, his duty and his people to DIE while the planet slowly suffered with them! Your touted hero is as MUCH at fault as any Decepticon WARLORD is for the deaths of millions of our species and for the suffering of millions more! He couldn't get past his persona vendetta against Megatron and all his efamed talk about sentients rights boiled down to a cover for his own depredations against his own kind!" Soundwave has arrived. Ranger raises a hand to cover his optics as Elita One smacks Arachnae across the face. What in the worlds' gotten into everybody around here? Well, surely 'Lita's smart enough not to react further to that obvious provocation. Surely... Symphony winces, "Oh that was a bad idea Elita... letting your emotions control you like that... NOW Rodimus is gonna have to court marshal you for violating the truce. Such a shame for your LONG and ILLUSTRIOUS career to end so pathetically as to be locked up by your own kind for a violation like this. What -ever- would Optimus think." she slurps the last of her drink innocently, tossing it into a nearby waste bin. Foxfire visibly winces, and decides to stay far away from the femmes as he can while still in range of sight and hearing. He's not one to say that Arachnae didn't deserve that...but he's also not sure Elita SHOULD have done that, considering the truce. Ears pinned back, the cassette stays silent, having no desire to get people mad at HIM. Soundwave silently enters the Stands, intent on finding out something worthwhile. And given what he heard on open frequencies, he'll be promised that. Without drawing attention to himself, he finds a spot close by to the Decepticon who seems to know about this - Symphony. Thankfully, 'close by' has a much broader definition when you can hear a pin drop at a hundred astro-metres. Elita's hand goes to her hip, and the pistol there..this is about a micron from getting out of hand. As the taunting continues, it appears that she might very well just put a blast into Arachnae's mouth. It is just about that time that Elita notices that a crowd has formed about them. A crowd that consists of her fellow Autobots....Autobots that she is supposed to set an example for. Damn Rodimus...damn him for making her question herself. There is a low growl from the femme as she leans in towards Arachnae and whispers like the edge of a razor to her, "You and I..." Comes her slow response, "Will finish this one day..." Then, drawing back, the elder femme turns and pushes by both Arachnae and Symphony. Arachnae muses thoughtfully, "Granted, Megatron had his fair share of exhaust spelunking under his belt as well..." Wings begin to fold neatly against her back as she stares at Elita. She gives an enigmatic smirk, "Of course we will, after all, everyone seems to have developed a medic bashing fetish as of late." A shrug of shoulders, wings creaking to balance her as the pink one pushes past, "If you care to get it out of your system now, there might be an arena open." A shake of her head, "They just don't like hearing anyone elses perspectives other than theirs, do they, Symphony?" Turning to look at the watcher - erm, Symphony. "And they call *us* the blind ones." Symphony tsks and shakes her head, "And the autobots claim -we're- hot headed..." she shrugs a bit, glancing at Arachnae, "*I* thought you were quite insightful with your comments, if she bothered to listen she might have realized a few things and been able to help bring this bloody conflict to a close." she grins a bit, the innocent facade sliding away as she grins at Nae's response. Ranger glances down at Foxfire, whom he also sees nearby in the stands, and groans loudly. "'M gonna regret this..." He mutters to himself as he dashes forwards, ready to try and get between them. Fortunately, he is spared the necessity. He slows as he nears Elita, regarding her warily, "Is... everything all right?" He asks, fully aware that is isn't, but needing to say /something./ Foxfire blinks, still watching the femme commander. "Elita?" he calls quietly, hopefully loud enough to be heard, but then he casts a worried glance toward Ranger. So much for having a fun time. Elita stops to look at Foxfire as he decides to be chivalrous..a bit late. She seems about to respond but then Arachnae's little parting shot catches her receptors and she slowly looks over her shoulder at the infuriating 'Con, "When I fight.." She says, "It is not in an arena.." Looking back to Foxfire she speaks to him now, "No. It is not..but that seems to not matter anymore right now. If you will excuse me, the smell here (She looks towards the Decepticons gathered) is a bit too much for my comfort." Ah, scrap it all. There's nothing to report here, apparently. Soundwave keeps his distance. The night is young, after all. <'Decepticon'> DCI Operative Symphony says, "Well, that was anticlimactic... one slap... I fully expected her to pull a rifle or something on you Arachnae." Arachnae drops back into her seat, flicking wings over the backrest to span out and take up part of the row behind her. "Calls me a murderer and she wont sully her pristine little prissy hands with a simple arena bout. Fluid thirsty, cave crawling, hiding behind a dead mechs name, little whiny, pampered autobot playtoy." Grumps.. "I hate it here." Kicking the seat in front of her before flinging legs over it and settling backwards. <'Decepticon'> Swindle says, "Anti-climactic, perhaps. But sufficient should you wish to raise the point with the authorities." <'Decepticon'> Commander Shockwave says, "Negative." <'Decepticon'> Arachnae says, "Considered that I wanted to throttle the stupidity out of her but I realized that I don't have that much time to waste on such a pointless gesture, I think it went rather well." <'Decepticon'> DCI Operative Symphony says, "I see no point in ruining things this close to the end myself." <'Decepticon'> Swindle says, "How delightful, I'm inclined to agree. But there /are/ those in our ranks who would not be so... considerate." Symphony smiles at Nae, "Wanna go back to Cybertron? I certainly wouldn't mind leaving early..." she inquires, propping her feet up on the seats in front of her, "Dunno how that'd effect the medal thing though, do I have to be here to receive it?" See, what ya'll are seeing right now is the fragment of Scandal that's still inside Symphony... it's always near the surface around Nae... the only REAL friend Scandal had. Elita gives one last long look to Arachnae and Symphony as well, then turns to walk alongside *Ranger* out of the stands, "I think I would prefer to leave this place as well, would you let Rodimus know I've departed?" She says to her fellow Autobot. Below, From Combat Pit 4, Dump Truck backs away after successfully ramming into Mixmaster, and is in the process of gearing up for another run when he realizes that Mixmaster has been knocked out, anyway. Well! Ramming him again would be rather silly now, wouldn't it? He starts to move forward, turning and limping awkwardly towards the bulldozer. He's hurting bad, but looks like he could take one, maybe two more hits. That is, if he needs to... Ranger turns a thoughtful look on Arachnae and Symphony, optics narrowed in a mixture of anger and confusion. He then turns and nods at Elita, "Ignore them, they're just trying to provoke you." He then nods, "I'll inform him the next time I see him, Ma'am." Arachnae blows air out of intake valves, picking at her knee again with a talon. "Could do that but since I'm here already.. I should remain as part and parcel of the great high command and all that rubbish. Insert whatever propegandistic.." pause, "Not sure that's a word..." Optics narrow, "Anyhows, any propegandisitic nonsense that fits for me remaining on this slagheap of a planet wasting time and energy on nonsensical dross when there are more important things to be dealt with." Symphony grins, flagging down a vendor for another drink before commenting, "You know, I think I missed your tirades while I was away..." she takes a self-satisfied slurp of her drink and gazes around at others in the stands - particularly autobots - with a smug expression. Ranger sighs, shaking his head as he watches Elita One leave the stands, then turns back to the reason that he was here: to find a good seat to watch the... to watch the... Awww, man, it's over? Shrugging, he throws a slightly accusatory look at those Decepticons before slumping into a seat to see what else may occur event-wise. Arachnae looks at Symphony, offers a more normal variation of her usual smile, "Haven't had much time for a good tirade actually." Picking at her knee. "Besides, who the slag does she think she is, jumping into our conversation spouting off her own gibberish, throwing insults around and generally acting like a slagging stunticon on a rodeo drive, hmm? I mean, seriously, if she's all that and a case of transistors, she is in dire need of a paradigm shift. Or a reality adjustment courtesy of my foot crammed up her skidplate." She folds arms across her chest, "You know, she's seriously lucky that I'm in a relatively decent frame of mind, all things considered." Arachnae adds with a snort, "Secure in my own insipid weakness as it were." Symphony grins, "Anyway, back to what we were -originally- talking about. I did, in fact, take Gold in the Lightweight division, which I actually expected. The class of the division were Axis and Blades, besides myself... the fact that Axis fell to that human boggles my mind even still, while Blades was a disappointment, I suspect I got lucky in that one." she shrugs, "Still, to be robbed of a decisive win by that little toy of his running out of fuel is just maddening... even when I -win- I can't win. I will admit I enjoyed watching his puny little fleshbag self being carted off in an ambulance." Ranger kicks back in his new seat to relax, swigging more from his miraculously-unspilled drink as he does so. He's feeling rather off-put by this latest turn of events but nevertheless tries to put it out of his mind. Below, It takes a bit for Long Haul to snap out of his happy daze. Even Bonecrusher's slap doesn't do it! The transporter turns his head and looks kind of dimly at his brother for awhile as his processors work to come on-line, overriding his sheer joy in the moment. "Oh. Uh, yeah. Go, Constructicons!" he finally replies, although his voice still carries a rather distracted undercurrent. Arachnae's wings flick and she looks over her shoulder, giving Ranger a strange look, "What are you looking at? What? Don't have anything to say? Not going to jump in like any other Autobot and start ranting about the evil depredations of a war based machinistic tyrant driven empire bent on universal domination? Good, because I'm tired of hearing all of that one sided, propaganda driven slag by a bunch of whining prissants who seem determined to forget that it takes TWO sides to start a war and not everyone fits the bill of whatever image du jour you're painting of your dream enemy this cycle. Now, if you have something intelligent to say, feel free to speak up, if not, stop looking in my general direction because I'm getting too slagging old to have to put up with this sort of prima donna skev on a regular basis without my systems seizing up from all the sludge being hurled in my general direction." She peers back to Symphony, "Well, at least you made a good showing." Idly inspecting her talons, "As for the fleshbag.. Can you, for my sake, simply refer to them by species variant as opposed to some nome de plume? Human suffices as I really have nothing against them personally." Symphony shrugs a bit as she slurps her drink, "As you wish, Arachnae, though it's not quite as much fun." she grins a little at Arachnae deciding to light up Ranger next. Somehow though, she suspects Ranger won't be so eager to rise to the bait, sad really. Nae is in rare form tonight, and Symphony at least enjoys that sort of thing, "So, you've been secluded in your lab, I hope you didn't let anything escape this time... I don't think you want to run into Rodimus by accident again." Ranger turns in some surprise as Arachnae.. addresses him? But he wasn't looking at her anymore. Huh. Oh well, fair enough, if she's talking to him, it's only polite to answer. "No," he flatly contradicts, "It takes one side to start a war, it takes two to /prolong/ it." He shrugs and offers a faint smile. "And, as this is at it's core a /civil/ war, I figure the best thing to do is to remain civil." Machinistic tyrants driven on universal domination? Sounds like the Decepticons' recruitment brochures. "Furthermore, evil is entirely subjective." Arachnae smirks for a moment, trying to relax into the stadium seat. "All the worlds a stage and sometimes I feel the player of a two bit misprint for the laughter of everyone else." She flicks talons out and studies them, "No, I locked that down rather well after the last escape of materials." Short snort of air out of intake valves. Then she once more looks over her shoulder to Ranger, optics brightening, "Indeed and oft times my intended point. When I'm in the frame of mind to remember such things." Odd smirk that slips into a brief, sardonic sneer before she flicks attention back to Symphony. "I intend on avoiding Rodimus like one avoids scraplets. He'll be the death of me. And really, it wouldn't be something I didn't earn, all things put into perspective." Symphony shrugs just a bit, "Well sure, I'm pretty sure we've -all- earned it on some level. Though I admit, based on what I've heard you did some really amazingly cool stuff to some Autobot's that lead to that particular encounter..." she grins a bit, "I really need to poke my nose into your work more often, it sounds like you have just TONS of fun." Ranger keeps his gaze on Arachnae for a few more moments but, deciding that the conversation is already over, turns away with a shrug, well, whatever. Of course, anyone wanting to know who's on what side of this war, right or wrong, may judge from the conversation that the two 'Cons are holding. Arachnae fidgets, adjusting wings over the back of her seat. "It was simply an experiment, Sc.. Symphony." Scowling, "And yes yes, while the little parts of the public portions seem to have delighted those I serve and serve with, the general intention and overall endeavor was not to inflict unspeakable pain and suffering on the subjects. That was simply an unavoidable side effect of the activity." Symphony's optics flicker, catching the near miss. Understandable, it's still a difficult thing to realize that Scandal, for all intents and purposes, is dead. Even if bits of her still show life in Symphony, "Yes. Such -delightful- side effects too." she comments, "Oh I dunno, I guess I'm really not -that- excited about pain, but really. I just enjoy watching someone who -really- knows what they're doing." Arachnae shrugs, "Sometimes pain is simply another thing one must get past in order to continue to evolve." Symphony's optics dim considerably at that comment, "Too true, my friend, too true..." her optics go all staticy as she retreats for a moment into herself, it's only momentary as the purple hue returns a few moments later.